Just One, For Christmas
by whocares10315
Summary: Butters only wanted one. Just one, for Christmas…


_**[fanfic] Just One, For Christmas**_

**Title:** Just One, For Christmas

**Author:** **whocares10315**

**Pairing:** Craig/Butters

**Chapter:** One Shot

**Rating:** PG-13 for very mild sexual content and language

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Matt and Trey's precious babies.

**Author's Notes:** Just in time for the holiday season! Dedicated to **bloodyfire** for the request; crack!fic, mistletoe, fluff

**Summary:** Butters only wanted one. Just one, for Christmas…

* * *

**Just One, For Christmas**

Leopold "Butters" Stotch stood in one of the doorways between the adjacent rooms in the house. He greeted people as they passed him with a big grin on his face, whether or not they said "hi" back. He was casually sipping on some punch, looking around at his peers, some of them already pretty tipsy from their spiked punch or feeling the buzz of the drugs they brought. Butters didn't find any interest in any of that, though. He was too concerned about his father finding out, somehow.

"Butters," a voice slurred behind the happy-looking blonde.

"Er, that's me!" Butters replied, turning, only to dissolve into a strange look when he saw how drunk Kyle was.

"B-Butters, what're you doin'?" Kyle asked, furrowing his eyebrows, eyes drooping lazily as he struggled to stand in front of the blonde.

"Um, well-" Butters stammered, flushing and looking embarrassed as he leaned in the doorway, averting his eyes before raising them upwards absently. "I-It's kind of a funny story-"

"Join the party!" Kyle interjected, almost toppling over onto the blonde, dissolving into a laugh as he did.

Before Butters could manage to get embarrassed for Kyle or explain his meaning for hovering awkwardly in the doorway, Kyle tripped away, finding another person to bother. Butters couldn't believe that even the "mature" one of their friend group who was always so concerned about his "crazy bitch" mother was even joining in the festivities.

Well. It was Christmas.

Butters sighed with a sad smile on his face, taking another sip of his clean drink. He knew he was being ridiculous, waiting in the doorway the way he was. But Cartman had "graciously" let him know that if he waited for long enough, someone would come along and give Butters a Christmas present. Butters, as usual, gullible and optimistic, stood, waiting, glancing up on occasion.

He realized that some people were laughing at him or talking about him, at least. He knew but didn't move from his place. He still had hope. It was Christmas, after all. Anything could happen. Miracles, and all.

At least, that was what Butters kept telling himself as the night progressed. He could sense people avoiding his doorway, for a number of reasons. One reason was that he was Butters, and that meant he was a loser and nobody talked to him except the girls who found him adorable (adorably gay, more like.) Another reason was because the many inebriated, intoxicated teenagers in the room simply wanted an excuse to hook up and there were plenty of other doorways to do that under.

At that thought, Butters glanced up, sighing a bit at the little piece of mistletoe. He started absently wondering where that tradition had come from; the one that said if you were found under the mistletoe with someone, you had to kiss them. Butters always kind of thought that it was a sweet tradition. He only wished that someone else did, instead of using it as an excuse or a scapegoat of sorts. Butters certainly felt like he was suffering for the sake of the tradition. But suffering wasn't so much a unfamiliar thing for Butters.

The blonde reapplied his smile and ruffled his blonde hair a bit, as if telling himself to get it together. He told himself that he wasn't going to let himself get all sad on Christmas. There was no need for that. He could be happy. Happy, happy, happy. He could even be happy if his hopeful waiting turned out to be fruitless. He could. Really…

"What the hell are you doing, Stotch?"

Butters froze. Oh no. He knew that voice anywhere. It was one of the many voices that taunted and bullied him all through middle school…

"Er, hey Craig!" Butters found himself greeting happily, albeit nervously. He didn't dare meet his eyes, though. Those cold, unfeeling eyes, faded like some blue work jeans.

"What are you doing?" Craig reiterated, his tone only holding a tinge of annoyance; to the unlearned he sounded bored, unresponsive, monotone.

"O-oh! Um-" Butters flushed in humiliation. Craig knew exactly how to do that. Butters stared at the first unhooked button on Craig's black shirt, deadest on not looking away from it as he spoke.

"I was j-just y'know…waiting, I suppose," Butters murmured, feeling like he was shrinking in Craig's presence.

"For what?" Craig asked flatly, tilting his head slightly at the shorter blonde, looking borderline amused. "Or for who?"

"W-what?" Butters tripped over his words. His eyes flickered up at the cursed mistletoe before looking back down, inevitably meeting Craig's eyes head-on.

"You've been waiting here under the mistletoe for hours, Butters," Craig stated, informing the other of the facts as he shoved his hands in his back pockets, the waist of his jeans hanging desperately on his protruding hipbones.

"Uh, really? Wow, that's a long time, huh?" Butters laughed anxiously, rubbing the back of his neck and finishing up his drink. "Time flies."

"You drink?" Craig asked incredulously, looking at the newly empty cup in Butters' hand.

"W-wha-? Oh gosh, no!" Butters chuckled. "Gee, I don't drink like the other fellas. It doesn't taste any good. It's yucky." Butters looked at the other curiously, wondering why Craig didn't seem to have anything to drink; he wasn't even smoking a characteristic cigarette. Butters looked at Craig. Hm. Perhaps that was why Craig looked so cranky.

"Drinking's dumb," Craig conceded, giving a single nod, eyes never leaving Butters' shy expression. "Shit makes people do awful things."

Butters tilted his head like a curious puppy, never realizing Craig wasn't a drinker. In fact, he didn't realize Craig generally disliked parties because of all the drunk people. He didn't realize Craig hated drinking because his father did it so heavily.

"So you want to hook up with someone for Christmas?" Craig suddenly asked.

Oh Geez, here it comes…Butters warned himself inwardly. He knew Craig could only be talking to him to make fun of him for something.

"N-not necessarily, no," Butters grumbled pathetically, fiddling with his empty cup, almost spilling some of the last of it on his nice faded blue button down. "Just came to have a good time. A-and I suppose-I mean I wouldn't mind if- but it's not like that's the only-" Butters trailed off, rambling a bit about how he didn't want to hook up with anyone. He just wanted one thing.

A kiss.

Just one. Just one, to at least pretend that someone cared enough for him to do such a thing...

Butters felt dizzy by the time he glanced up to see Craig's stony expression, eyes narrowed, not amused, dark hair falling over his pale and unblemished skin; so in contrast to Butters' sunshine blonde hair, wide, fearful blue eyes nestled in flushed, plump flesh.

"It's Christmas," Butters wisped, as if to justify his actions and thoughts, staring up at Craig, almost unable to look way now.

Craig nodded in agreement, his lips thinning out as he looked at Butters thoughtfully.

"Well," he started, glancing up at the mistletoe before looking back down at the blonde. "You're here. I'm here. Aren't we supposed to kiss?"

Butters' heart was in his throat at a sudden realization. Oh God. His dad had warned him about this; somebody must have drugged him. There was no other explanation for one of his bullies growing up to be suggesting to hook up on Christmas under the mistletoe, stone cold sober, unless somebody had drugged him. Butters' flushed face's shade darkened as he smacked a hand over his mouth, gagging. He knew that drink tasted funny…

"Christ," Craig scoffed, raising an eyebrow and taking a step back. "Sorry if I repulse you, Stotch."

Wait. Butters took a pause, eyes wide and blinking as he stared up at Craig. What?

"N-no! No! That's not- that's not what I meant!" Butters said quickly, trying to redeem himself passionately, receiving a very familiar look from Craig; one that clearly pondered whether Butters was really human or not.

"I'm sorry," Butters finally managed to finalize with an earnest look on his face. He continued to play with the cup in his hands, making the plastic crackle under his nervous fingertips. "I didn't mean I was repulsed by you or nothing like that. Just- surprised, I guess."

Craig stared at Butters for a lingering moment, taking in the honesty behind such bright blue eyes. He had no idea someone's eyes could be so blue. So trusting. So forgiving. So apologetic. And he could see that the blonde had no idea what his eyes could do. Clueless, as ever.

"You're an idiot," Craig insulted, making Butters' flinch but smile in that sad way of his, as if he already knew that for himself.

Craig closed the space between them, cupping Butters' chin surprisingly gentle to mold his lips against Butters'. Butters felt his eyes snap open, staring cross-eyed at the dark-haired male in front of him. Butters' felt a blush overcome him at the feel of Craig's lips moving against his own. Oh God, he had wanted this and now he didn't know what to do! He breathed heavily through his nose before finally sighing to control himself, clenching his eyes shut and giving in to the sensation. Because in all honesty- it felt nice. More than nice. Nicer than he had ever imagined a kiss to feel like.

"Hmmn," Butters sighed, melting a bit as Craig kissed him with soft lips, but a firm lock. As if to reaffirm that Craig's lips were truly on his and it was really a kiss. A kiss.

Butters felt Craig's calloused fingertips move against his plush cheeks, cupping his chin to hold him in place. Craig tilted his head to deepen the kiss, opening his lips slightly, making Butters shiver in anticipation and nervousness. He slowly opened his mouth in response, hoping he wasn't opening it too wide and making a gaping hole. But he felt Craig's lips envelop his own, tongue tracing along the slick flesh, making Butters sigh again. Or maybe it was a whimper. But whatever noise he made, it was stuck between them, in their kiss.

Butters found his free hand moving to clench into Craig's dark shirt, holding on for dear life as he tilted his head back to let the taller boy kiss him. His eyebrows furrowed in both concentration and pleasure. He gasped quietly when Craig started to open and close his lips, his tongue coaxing Butters'. The blonde released a small noise, tugging Craig's shirt in nervousness as he mirrored Craig's movements, feeling electricity in his fingertips and toes when their velvet tongues brushed.

Then suddenly, it was over. Butters' lips suddenly felt so naked without Craig's and his face so cold without the warmth of his possessive hold. He lazily blinked his eyes open to look at Craig, just in time to see the line of saliva between them break. Craig looked unchanged as he quietly removed Butters' hand from his person.

"Merry Christmas, Stotch," Craig said, seemingly nonchalant as he brushed some excess saliva from Butters' bottom lip. The sides of his lips seemed to twitch in a smile. An earnest smile. But before Butters could lean in to check, Craig turned from him, returning to whatever he had been doing previously.

Butters fell back against the doorway, feeling suddenly breathless. He had just kissed Craig Tucker. Kissed him. Craig "I have no personality or heart" Tucker. He had just shared an intimate moment with Craig Tucker, and had felt plenty of heart in it. Butters touched his lips, grinning like an idiot to himself; they still tingled. Craig had tasted so good. Bittersweet. A bittersweet kiss. Butters looked up at the mistletoe, silently thanking it and God for the "gift." He had gotten what he had wished for. And true, he had thought he would have had to have a drunk Kenny—a demon willing to hook up with anyone for shits and giggles with enough booze—to get his Christmas wish, but no. Craig Tucker. A very sober Craig Tucker. Butters sighed to himself, letting the plastic cup fall from his hands as he continued to smile.

Butters felt in love. And as selfish as he thought it was, he wanted another kiss. More. But knowing his own luck, he figured he wouldn't press his luck for the night. Or even for the year. He glanced up to see Craig casually talking to his friends as if nothing had happened.

Butters nodded, eyes slipping shut.

Maybe New Year's. Anything can happen…

Butters was too busy re-experiencing his Christmas miracle to realize that people had been watching, shocked, amused, some even disgusted. But specifically, the people Craig was talking to, Cartman, Clyde, and Token, were talking about Butters in a different way.

x

xx

xxx

II

"Dude, I cannot believe you went through with it," Token sighed, looking a bit disappointed as Craig returned, though a smile was plastered on his face.

"You said fifty bucks, Eric," Craig said flatly without introduction, holding out his hand impatiently.

But both Carman and Clyde were doubled over each other, laughing hysterically.

"You guys! You guys, seriously," Cartman gasped, clutching his fat side, heaving for air. "Clyde! Did you-did you fucking see that? Butters! Butters is such a fag, dude!"

"Jesus Christ," Clyde snickered, looking like he was trying his best to stifle his laughter, clenching his adorable face up to internalize everything. "It's so bad to laugh but it's just so funny. He's just so fucking _gay_, it's ridiculous! What a fag!"

"Seriously, it's not that funny," Token scolded a bit, despite the occasional chuckle he allowed himself. "We shouldn't have done that. That wasn't cool to do. There's nothing wrong with being gay."

"Just shut up and pay me, assholes," Craig snapped, glaring at each and every one of the boys. They obediently but begrudgingly paid Craig, each with their own fifties, Clyde still laughing like an idiot.

"So what'd it taste like, Tucker?" Cartman sneered, always looking out to milking a situation until it's dead. "Does a fag taste like sunshine and rainbows? Did Butters taste like a fucking unicorn?"

Clyde dissolved into another fit of laughter, his state not helped by the alcohol he had consumed and the hit he had taken earlier. Token simply laughed at his best friend, shaking his head as Clyde giggled, turning red in the face.

Craig, on the other hand, ignored Cartman, tucking his money in his back pocket before meeting Cartman's eyes, looking almost—angry.

"Knock it off, Eric. The joke's over," Craig said firmly. "It wasn't even that funny to begin with."

Cartman blinked, almost fearfully at first due to Craig's lack of joviality challenging his fun. But he quickly returned to his usual, cruel self and cooed mockingly.

"_Oh,_ I see. You actually _like_ the pretty, little fag. Does Butters turn you _on_, Craig? Does he make you have a _gay_ hard on?"

Craig resisted the urge to roll his eyes and punch Cartman in the gut. He hated the boy so much and yet he somehow found himself talking to the fat fuck. Even making bets with him, like some kind of buddy. Craig had forgotten why he had taken the bet in the first place. It wasn't that he cared too much about hurting people's feelings; he used to do that all the time as a bully. But it got old. Hurting other people didn't ever make him feel better. So Craig stopped. He only went into the bet because he wanted to get paid. And maybe a small, infinitesimal part of him that he would never acknowledge actually felt bad for the kid.

"You know, Eric, if I didn't know any better, by the way you talk about gays so much, I'd think that _you_ were the pillowbiter and you're actually a little jealous of me," Craig mused, sounding almost thoughtful. "Too bad you're too much of a fat fuck for anyone, really. Nobody likes fat people."

Craig found himself smirking coldly at everyone's shocked expressions, especially Cartman's. He looked ready to explode. Craig knew he had the upper hand because he had had a girlfriend (a mistake, in his opinion) and Cartman, of course, had not. So Craig could pull off "gay shit" and Cartman could not. It was an unspoken "straight guy rule." But Craig had to admit, while he had stopped bullying because of the lack of benefits in it, telling off Cartman had made him feel good. Perhaps for Butters' sake. Craig found that a curious thought, indeed.

"Later," Craig said dismissively, turning from his friends and going to the door. He was done with the stupid party. He passed Butters, still stuck in the doorway. Seriously, did that kid do nothing normally? Was he always such a weirdo?

But even as he thought that, when Butters looked to see Craig, instead of waving like a dork or staring at him longingly as Craig, admittedly, had expected from someone like Butters, the blonde simply nodded and smiled in a good-natured way.

Butters thanked him in the only silent way he knew he could.

Craig reciprocated, surprising himself with a smile of his own; with humanity.

Craig thanked Butters back.

~*Love? Hate? Undecided? Let me know. Thanks for reading!*~


End file.
